Watching what's being sown

We have a wide range of counsel and spiritual instruction today that grew out of Biblical illustrations relating to farming practices. Almost every aspect of agricultural work assumes a figurative role in teaching vital lessons—cultivation, sowing, watching, and of course, reaping what is sown. This isn't surprising, considering that agriculture was the primary basis for the economy in Palestine.

When it comes to sowing, for instance, the book of Leviticus offers this instruction: "Thou shalt not sow thy field with mingled seed" (19:19). And elsewhere in the Old Testament is this: "Thou shalt not sow thy vineyard with divers seeds: lest the fruit of thy seed which thou hast sown, and the fruit of thy vineyard, be defiled" (Deut. 22:9). These words remind us of the need for purity and watchfulness.

Anyone who has cared for a garden knows that it takes watchfulness and consistent effort to keep the land weed-free. And we've seen the consequences of not doing so! In a similar manner, we can care about the character of our thought, watch carefully and consistently that it's only of the highest quality, that it's as purely spiritual as possible, and not allow an opposite quality to be sown and take root. In this way we guard against anything detrimental to health, to happiness, or to our own spiritual advancement. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance," Paul told the Galatians (5:22, 23).

How do we remain spiritually-minded? What's the basis for rejecting thoughts contrary to the nature and substance of Spirit when so much in human life appears to be just the opposite of genuine spirituality? The answer to both questions lies in what we know of God.

To learn that God, good, is Spirit and infinite, and that man is the very expression of God, leads us to understand that our true selfhood, our nature, our whole being, is spiritual and good, reflecting the divine nature. The more we understand God's allness and goodness, the more we see that the only reality there is, and thus the only true consciousness we can have, is spiritual. And it's on this basis that we can and should call into question—in fact, we should reject—any conception of existence to the contrary. And we reap the practical, beneficial effect of this work.

For example, I was on a plane flight when the pilot announced it looked as though we'd have smooth flying all the way. Twenty minutes later, however, the "Fasten Seatbelts" sign was illuminated, and the pilot apologized that indeed we were going to encounter turbulence, but for only a few minutes.

During that time I felt only slightly concerned, but figured I'd just wait for the ride to smooth out. It didn't. After fifteen minutes we were still bouncing around pretty severely. Again the pilot's voice came over the speaker, this time to tell us the turbulence would likely continue for the next forty-five minutes and could get quite rough "as we bear with Mother Nature."

You could see passengers becoming fearful and uncomfortable. And for a moment I began to feel the same way, until I realized what was happening. Like many of the passengers, I was allowing fear to be sown and take root. And I was beginning to feel physical discomfort.

Like a gardener who suddenly realizes his garden is being overrun by weeds, I took action. Not physical action, but metaphysical action in Christian Science. I turned all my attention to God, divine Mind, and at once the idea came, "I can do something about this because I know that God, good, is governing all. No part of His universe is in a state of turbulence or fear." The next thought I had, however, was just the opposite: "That's unrealistic. I'm powerless to do anything about this. We're talking Mother Nature!"

I had to come to terms quickly with these opposite impressions. The first was a feeling of dominion and order, and I recognized this to be the true, spiritual sense of things, a perception of God's perfect care of all. The other was the feeling that I was a helpless mortal at the mercy of the forces of nature. This view seemed real to the material senses. But like a plant that at first looks as though it belongs in the garden yet turns out to be only a weed, I knew this material sense of things was illegitimate because it was no part of God, divine Mind, the only true consciousness.

In the face of all the turbulence and discomfort, this might seem a radical stand to take. But I held firmly to the spiritual fact brought out in Christian Science that the problem wasn't that we were victims of an out-of-control reality; rather, the problem was ignorance of reality as purely spiritual, as eternally calm and in perfect order under the government of God. In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy writes, "It is our ignorance of God, the divine Principle, which produces apparent discord, and the right understanding of Him restores harmony" (p. 390). My concern and discomfort ended quickly.

A few minutes later the rough turbulence ceased, and for the remainder of the flight (about two hours) there were only a few isolated moments of bumpiness. One might think the sudden end of turbulence was just a coincidence, that the plane happened to leave the rough currents of air at that time. Maybe it did.

But there's a deeper significance to what took place. I was bearing witness to the relevancy of the Bible's lessons in today's world. And I was reminded of the importance and beneficial effect of consistently watching what's being sown in thought.

Russ Gerber